


A Very Baker Street Christmas

by serenissima (killalla)



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killalla/pseuds/serenissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is faced with one of his most perplexing challenges – what to get Watson for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Baker Street Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [susanmgarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/susanmgarrett/gifts).



> Most of the inspiration for this story comes from the Granada Sherlock Holes adaptation of "The Cardboard Box," which features several lovely little exchanges between Holmes and Mrs Hudson on the subject of Christmas, and scenes from the episode are referenced herein. Latin section headings are taken from the traditional "Boar's Head Carol," and translations are provided with each. Thanks to V. for the beta. All errors and omissions are my own.

_Servire Cantico [Serve with a Song]_

Around the beginning of December, when it starts to get properly cold, she starts to make her preparations. First, there's the necessity of cleaning the house from top to bottom, which takes a lot longer than one might think, particularly as it's a slow time of year for crime and that means that Mr Holmes is inevitably underfoot, destroying crockery, conducting noxious chemistry experiments, and generally bemoaning his boredom. Then, once everything is tidy (or at least as tidy as it will ever be) the careful, almost stealthy process of decoration can begin, taking place as it does under the watchful gaze of her longtime lodger, one none too charitably disposed to the Christmas spirit when it failed to provide him with criminals to catch.

This particular year was no different, and the made perhaps worse by the fact that Mr Holmes had come down with a bad cold, which tended to put him in an even more foul mood than usual. Within the last week, he'd complained of a chill in the sitting room, badgering her into purchasing more coal for the fire; caused an explosion that had scorched the wallpaper above his lab bench; and shouted at her for moving the aspidistra from the staircase landing so it could be replaced with a small Christmas tree.

Therefore, it came as rather a surprise when she found him arranging ornaments on the mantelpiece, draping tinsel over his beakers, and asking if she would accompany him on a shopping expedition.

 

_Quod Estes In Convivio [As Many Are in The Feast]_

As the scourge of London's criminal underworld, Sherlock Holmes feared nothing - except, perhaps a crowded London departmental emporium on Christmas Eve. The fact that he was here at all was the fault of Watson, who would insist on getting him a present, thus necessitating that one be bought for him in return, despite protestations to the contrary. And of course, a gift for Watson couldn't be something commonplace or ordinary. Selection of a gift was fraught on any occasion, much less one that was intended to symbolize one's relationship to the recipient. Indeed, it required a sympathy of emotion and understanding of a sort that he was simply not possessed, and was therefore one of the things he dreaded most about the holiday season. Under the circumstances, he required the assistance of an expert, much as he might a bloodhound or pathologist.

It was for this reason that he was now standing in a rather drafty, garishly decorated lobby, nursing a sore throat and a pounding headache, facing a seething mass of the metropolis' population, all intent on locating and purchasing the perfect gift. "Dear Lord, I think this must be what hell looks like. How can one expect to find anything in this chaos?"

"Oh, do stop fussing, Mr Holmes." Mrs Hudson had already grasped his arm and was gently propelling him towards an entranceway on the left. "We'll want to go over to the gentlemen's section, it's upstairs. Besides, I think it looks rather festive, don't you?"

 

_Caput Apri Defero [The Board's Head I Offer]_

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold, with feathery flakes of snow piling in drifts on doorsteps and windowsills. John Watson awoke early, but lay in bed for some time, listening for movement in the house below. On the foot of his bed sat his Christmas present from Holmes, carefully wrapped and placed there while he slept. Aware of the energies exerted in its purchase, he sometimes wondered if he ought to leave off the exchange of Christmas gifts, since Holmes always found it something of a trial. But his love of the season was matched by the almost cruel delight he took at witnessing the yearly dilemma, and in the years since he returned to Baker Street, the ritual had become even more important.

Tearing away the colorful paper, he reflected that it wasn't after all the gift itself that had the greatest meaning. Although this year's offering, a cloak appropriate for bicycling, was thoughtful, useful and judging from the quality of the weave, quite expensive, what he valued most of all was knowledge of the effort involved in its purchase.

Holmes was already dressed when he came downstairs to the sitting room, and had opened his own gift, a rare cherrywood pipe for his collection, which held pride of place on the mantelpiece. Mutual expressions of thanks were interrupted by Mrs Hudson, who entered wearing the cameo brooch that had been his gift to her, and bearing a sumptuous breakfast that included large quantities of eggs, sausages and chops.

 

_Reddens Laudes Domino [Giving Praises To The Lord]_

Night was falling in Baker Street as they returned. Street lamps had been lit, and their glow was reflected off the snow, which had not yet melted from the pavement. Christmas celebrations at Scotland Yard had been most convivial - the Police Choir had performed, spirits had flowed freely and everyone had come away feeling rather merry as a result. Entering the downstairs hallway, they were greeted with the most appetizing scent of roasted meat and the sounds of preparations emanated from the downstairs kitchen. Coal had been piled high in the sitting room grate, the table was set, and the fire had already been lit so that the room was pleasantly warm. Christmas had come to 221B Baker Street, and all her inhabitants were once more home.

Some time later, the turkey had been consumed, the claret drunk, and the plates cleared. Mrs Hudson excused herself to make sure that the kitchen was properly cleaned and see the housemaid off home for Boxing Day, and they took up their usual seats on either side of the fire.

"Christmas. Well, it was an excellent meal, at least."

"Indeed, Mrs Hudson has outdone herself again. Which reminds me, Holmes, what was your gift to her this year?"

"I agreed to refrain henceforward from discharging firearms in the house."

"Interesting. And her gift to you?"

"Oh, I received that yesterday, in the form of assistance. Did you know that almost anything can be found in those new shopping emporiums in Holborn?"


End file.
